


If You Build a Better Rodeo

by winterwhite



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cowboy Hats, Cowboy everything else, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Friendship, Gen, peripheral slightly naked lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwhite/pseuds/winterwhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji needs a place that's a little out of the way. McCree knows a place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Build a Better Rodeo

**Author's Note:**

> "Why a cowboy? Is he the only one? What if back home he's judged for not taking it far enough?" This happened.

Genji stands patiently. McCree is still tossing belt buckles aside. "MOFO? No. BAMF? Already taken." He looks up apologetically. "I know you, but people are just gonna treat you like an Omnic unless you show a little... personality. I don't want to drag you out so the heat'll die down, then have people get rough when they lay eyes on you." 

The Shimada clan had many backers. Some of them were wracked by the criminal empire's dying spasms, and have gotten explosive recently. Genji was going to wait it out at a Blackwatch base, but Reyes told them that due to unforseen security issues, they were going to have to relocate, they could not cross borders or go near airports, and McCree was to find a place where they could lie low. He also mentioned that since any questions they might have were above their clearance, they had better shut the fuck up and haul ass, he was too busy cleaning this up to make it any simpler, and if they weren't gone by the time- 

Genji never caught the rest. 

Better Rodeo is the nearest place McCree thinks they can lie low. So they're on the way.

Genji decides he might as well help out. He picks up one and turns it over. "What does DILF mean?" It seems similar to McCree's. 

"No," McCree barks, snatching it from his hands and tossing it on the discard shelf. Genji decides to let him work. But sixty seconds later, McCree is still flipping over new buckles. 

"I don't understand why this bothers you so badly."

"It's about goin' home," McCree says.

Ah. "I will go look at hats," Genji says. He returns in a white hat with a green and gray band. The lines on the ribbon crisscross in diagonals and end in sharp turns. 

"Here." It's the first one McCree picked out. It is silver, and has no letters. There's a vaguely shaped bird on it that could be a sparrow, or an eagle, or possibly a flamingo.

There are also two crescent moons. Genji accepts it patiently and takes a long, white belt. "Not that one, it's too narrow. It's a girl belt." 

"We're in a men's store," Genji wonders.

"This store don't quite get it right," McCree says. He grabs a broad, gray belt and heads for the counter. Genji walks along silently. McCree is quiet for the whole drive to the bus station. 

The Omnic Crisis inspired a wave of rebellious return to tradition, stubborn retreat to historical roots. Cowboy culture is the American peak of the counterreaction. The first generation's outlook was simple: they wanted to remind themselves that technology didn't have to go too far, that there was value in the traditions of the past. Modern conveniences were still hard to let go of. Better Rodeo fit all the needs: it was small, but not so small that newcomers were the talk of the town. It catered to tourists, so it had a laid-back attitude towards robotic presences, but the Western admiration for privacy and aversion to surveillance. It wasn't tourist season. It was low risk. 

It was almost dark when they got off the bus and looked up and down the street. There were no cars in sight. A horse or two, and a wagon rolling down the street with its back high with empty containers, but all the rest was odd-looking hoverbikes with tall, branching poles off the front and back. Those were rolling by regularly, turning themselves into little paths leading to wide corrals. 

"What's going on?" 

"Self-driving hoverbikes," McCree says. "Bus won't do, folks live too spread out. You get help if you're too old to catch one yourself, or got some other problem. I might get help if I wanted to take the arm off." 

"Help?" 

A woman has come through the swinging doors of a nearby grocery store. She's chewing something; Genji has already seen others chewing tobacco, but she seems to have gum. She wears a blanket swung around her shoulder's in the style of McCree's cape, but hers has more straps, and contains a baby. The holster on her hip has a baby bottle. There are three pacifiers in a row hanging down by the bottle. Genji turns his head to follow her. Her spurs, she's wearing spurs, look like little silver bells. She takes the rope off her belt, forms a loop, and tosses it through the air. It lands on one of the poles. She drags the bike over matter-of-factly and wrestles it through the little side gate, where she loads her groceries on it and hops on. The baby never wakes through all of it. She tells the bike her destination and glides off serenely. 

Genji has seen McCree's reaction to things like this many times. He doesn't even have to think. He knocks his hat back with the side of his hand, loops his thumbs over his belt, and stares after her with his hips cocked.

"Quit clownin' and let's go." McCree stomps towards the corral. "They probably put away the tourist ones until we request one in the mornin', but there should be one for greenhorns somewhere." He stops abruptly. Genji peers around his shoulder. He sees it, definitely, it's heaped with fake feathers and spangly loops of cloth. 

"It's very colorful," he offers. 

"Bar." McCree turns on his heel and makes for it. Genji readjusts his cowboy hat at an angle to match McCree's and follows. 

The bar is very dark. Genji takes the lead, taking them to a small back table. The waiters are showing a lot of skin, probably to counter the poor air conditioning. Genji is assessing the building for escape routes, so it's a bit startling when one pops up by the table. She's wearing a slim white belt with two little pearl-handled pistols on it, and a wide, fringed set of chaps combined with what looks like a swimsuit bottom. Her shirt is shimmery cords dangling with tassels. The effect is... mobile. 

"Well, hello," she shimmers. "What can I get you boys? No, what can I get you? I've never had an Omnic sit down here before." 

"Blueberry pie?" McCree has been taking a thoughtful look at the board and pitches in. "I'm easy to please." It occurs to Genji that his accent has just been getting stronger the longer he's here. After some of the drawls he's heard saying odd, folksy-sounding things, he's a bit worried McCree will be unintelligible by the time they go.

"Fresh out, honey. We'll bake more up tomorrow. We got pecan or toast." 

"Just a beer." 

"I am just here for the company," Genji says. "My cells are full." 

"Fine, fine," she says. "Well, I'll let you think about it, but just let me know where you want to plug in." She turns and flounces off. Genji wants to see if the pistols are loaded, and tracks them with his gaze. His eyes stop moving and his head turns instead. The swimsuit has only a tiny black strip in the back. Nothing interrupts the view until the flared lines of her chaps down below. He can see McCree's shoulders shaking, which makes him realize time is passing. She swishes out of sight just as he wrenches his gaze away, which ruins the triumph. 

"Is that... usual?" 

"Looks damn breezy to me." McCree relents. "People get a little crazy once the tourists are out of their hair. It's like Carnival further south. If everyone's that, uh, openminded, this is going to be a relaxing getaway after all." He snorts. "For me." 

"Wait," Genji says. "Did she - did she just - say?" McCree cackles. Genji opens his mouth to assure McCree of his experience, but closes it again. That's just going to convince McCree he has none. "Nobody's done that since..."

That does make it less funny. McCree's laughter stops, although his eyes are still bright. "I don't know for sure that's what she was getting at. But if girls get with Omnics, I don't see why you're out," McCree reasons. 

Genji doesn't know what to make of it, and does not want further input from McCree. "So can you not get one of the hoverbikes for us?" 

"Ain't that easy to throw a lasso. Most folks 'round here can use one before they can talk, but I never had the knack. I can drop a noose over the edge of the corral once it gets a bit darker and nobody will see. They start bangin' into the walls when the light's low enough." 

"I can go in," Genji offers. 

"Thanks, but that'd make you unwelcome for sure. It's a kind of taboo. Unless one comes real close to the side, we get the greenhorn one, the tourist one, or our feet." 

"I do not mind riding it." 

"You are not following me around on that monstrosity." McCree lays down the law. The waitress returns with his beer as the doors open and a group spills in. She tips Genji a wink and bounces towards the new crowd. 

"I have been wrong to make fun of you frequently, every day, for all these years, for how you dress when you're away from us," Genji says, watching her go. "I am applying for citizenship. Bringing us here was a good idea." 

"Not a problem." McCree drinks his beer. Genji knows McCree is trying to hurry despite his teasing, since Genji can't drink or eat. He turns his head as someone sits down at the table next to them. "You all right?" 

It's a good question. The man looks miserable. "Well," the man says, "I had this bright idea to plow my field with bison. I caught a couple with a carrot under a paper bag, but when I tied them to the plow they ran off over all the fields and dragged my crops and everyone else's clear over the river. Now the entire town hates my hide."

"Should have used badgers, that's just how bison are," McCree says. He glances at the incredulous tilt of Genji's head and shakes his head once sharply. Then he finishes his beer and drops money on the table. "Let's go."

The waitress is busy, and Genji doesn't know if she's sincere. She could be messing with him since she thinks he's a robot and doesn't expect a response. Or she's just playing to see if her tips go up. So he goes with McCree without trying to thank her. (The part of his mind that always tracks sharp edges notes that her spurs appear to be harmless four-leaf-clovers. The men's are slightly more utilitarian, but still dull.)

"You didn't say goodbye to your new girl," McCree says. 

"There will be a fight if I slap the back of your head, won't there?" 

"Omnic aggression towards a human wouldn't play well in these parts," McCree concedes. 

"Why are they glaring at you?" Genji has been turning his head to keep scanning them. "Do they blame you for bringing me?" 

"I'm dressed wrong," McCree says in a lower tone.

"You what?" 

"You're obviously just goin' with it," McCree says. "But I've sort of landed in between, with no lariat. Looks a little fake to them. If I didn't have real spurs, one of them would be over here tryin' to start something. Might get a pair of fringed chaps after all." 

"Could you not wear one?" 

"Not gonna wear something I can't use. It's fakin'." Genji reminds himself that it's about authenticity. Bragging, loud, obnoxious authenticity, he corrects himself with a glance at McCree's belt buckle, but trueness to oneself. He prefers a quieter version. 

They head back into the open air. There are horses tied outside. One of them kicks an empty self-driving hoverbike as it heads back to the corral. The poor bike spins off and crashes on its side, whining briefly as it corrects.

"Will it hold two of us if we grab it now?" 

"You have to let them finish their trip back," McCree grumbles. "It's not far to the hotel. We can walk to the ranchhouse in the morning while it's still cool."

"What was that in the bar? The bison story?" 

"Oh. Folks won't tell you something's not your business. It's rude. They just make up a tall tale instead. You can play along or just pretend to believe 'em, but if you say they're lyin', you're startin' a fight." 

**

McCree is inside, talking to the lady of the house. She was polite to Genji, but clearly not comfortable to speak to his face. He came outside to find a little girl playing quietly on the porch. She glances up at him, but she is clearly in a thrilling part of her game.

"Quick, Bobi!" Genji hears her saying. "We have to stop them before they take the counterfeits to Little Vegas! Hi-yo!" toy horse clooves patter across the porch. Genji sits quietly, meditating, accepting all the motion around him. He becomes aware of a soft clinking noise a while later, and turns to see she has placed an empty teacup and saucer beside him.

"Arigato," he says automatically. Belatedly, he tips his hat. 

"What cat?" Like her mother, she has the look of someone native, straight dark hair and deep-toned skin. 

"I meant to say, thank you." 

"No problem, Mr. Omnic. Want gum? A cowhand needs something to chew." 

"Thank you," he says again, accepting the gum and opening the lower visor enough to slide it through. Swallowing is a messy business later, when he has to open his side and change the bag, but chewing is harmless. "I am Genji," he continues. "I am not an Omnic. I was in a very bad accident, and they replaced much of my body, like Mr. McCree replaced his arm." 

"An accident? What happened?" 

"I was attacked by a dragon," Genji says.

"Oh," she nods. Either she knows all about tall tales, or she's a child and she thinks it's literally true. He can't tell which. "Did he have a lot of dragon friends?"  
"Dragons do not have many friends at all," Genji answered. "But he was very angry. Dragons must be respected." 

"Well, I'm Sue. And we have a coydog that hangs around here," she says. "I think he's like a dragon. He's stealthy and he's smart. Pa's been trying to shoot it, but he hasn't got it yet. I hope he never does. Ma says it's half his fault anyway, since he didn't get his dog fixed." Genji has been stuck on the first syllable, but he has heard of coyotes and welcomes the context of the dog. She turns her head as something black and heavy zips past. "Hey!" She jumps to her feet, grabbing up a flyswatter by the door.

"What?" 

"Horsefly," she says. "They bite hard. It'll bite clear through your armor, Mr. Genji, so just let me handle this." She hops up on the porch railing. Her fringed skirt swishes around her bare feet. Genji stands in case she needs to be caught, but she grabs a support beam and leans as she smacks at it. She drops to the floor. The fly continues to buzz. She climbs up again. It's further from a beam, so Genji approaches. The flyswatter waves as she tries to find a handhold. He puts his fingers under her wrist.

"Don't hang on to my gun arm," she says grimly, balancing. She swings again, jumping. The fly dies with a loud thwack. She flicks its body into the garden with an air of pride.

"Cool! An Omnic!" A boy about two years older than the girl comes running up to the porch, hanging his lariat on the hitching post in the backyard. He's wearing a broad hat and a denim vest. He trips on the steps while he's staring. 

"This is my brother, Rick," Sue volunteers as Rick rubs his shins and scowls. "Rick, this is Genji. He's not an Omnic, he was in an accident. Jesse McCree is visitin' Ma." 

"Hello," Genji says. 

"Genji who?" 

"That's all of my name," Genji says.

"Why don't you get more to it?" 

The truth is that his house is dishonored in his eyes and his brother, its leader, meant to kill him. He doesn't have the spirit to make up a tale. "Nobody else could be mistaken for me." 

"I think he's an Omnic," says Rick. "In disguise. Omnics wouldn't get people names." 

"Rick! Don't be rude! Some people don't need a lot of name. Billy the Kid didn't use a last name. Or Tecumseh." 

"I guess Wild Bill didn't need a last name," Rick says, thinking it over. 

Sue is also silent, frowning. "Well, he kind of made a new last name, and put it first." 

"You're always trying to be so smart," Rick says, with the sudden, bitter air of an older brother who has been nursing a grudge. Genji doesn't want to see them fight, and he doesn't want their mother to come out on the porch to find him by her unhappy children. 

"Both of you are smarter than me in one way," he says, as sadly as he can. They turn to him in surprise. "I spent my childhood far from here. Nobody ever taught me how to throw a lasso." He sighs deeply. "I wish I knew how." 

Four eyes widen in pity. 

**

McCree steps outside onto the porch. He sees a familiar, flickering shadow, and stops moving as a lariat dropped neatly over his shoulders and tightens.

"I have done roped me a greenhorn," intones Genji.

"I done roped," the little girl corrects firmly. Right, he remembers his hostess talking about kids now. 

"I done roped me a greenhorn," repeats Genji obediently. "What does one do, once the greenhorn has been done roped?" 

"Ride it into town!" Sue says.

"Shoot it and stuff it!" says Rick. 

"I'm stuffin' pie in my own face, and that's all," says McCree. "I see you're makin' friends fine." He hooks a thumb behind the lariat and loosens it enough to drop it and step out. "Are you chewing something?" 

"Gum," Genji says. He coils up the rope and offers it to Rick. "It is cactus flavored." 

"You keep it, Genji," says Rick. "That's my spare, and anyway, my dad's getting me a new one for my birthday. Are you going into town?" 

"I was going to go to walk out and pick up a few things," says McCree.

"I will go too," Genji says. "We will ride back." 

"Sure," McCree says, "but you don't have to go just to help me." 

Genji hangs the lariat off his belt. "I also want a vest. I feel underprepared. Thank you for the lesson and the lariat." He tips his hat. "We will see you later." He waves. They wave back. McCree says nothing as they walk down the long path towards the road. Genji thinks he looks happier than the day before. 

McCree grabs his gun. Genji follows his gaze. A huge, shy-looking canine is slung under a bush, staring, a chicken hanging from its mouth. Genji reaches across and pushes the pistol down. 

"Stop it, Genji, I got a clear shot. It's half coyote. It's no pet, it's chicken-stealing vermin." 

"Let them shoot it, if they're going to," Genji says. 

"They're our hosts. We'd be doing them a favor." McCree puts the pistol back anyway, since Genji does not move. The coydog takes off in a skulking ripple. A few feathers drift down behind it. 

"I will pay for the chicken. Even a skulking, thieving dragon must be respected."


End file.
